


All's Fair In Love And Scrums

by LandOfMistAndSecrets



Series: Dirk/Jake/BGD [3]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-12-05 07:05:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11572905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandOfMistAndSecrets/pseuds/LandOfMistAndSecrets
Summary: He's been real for awhile now, but he isn't sure he'll ever get used to the feeling.(In which Dirk is jealous, Jake is shameless and BGD's existence continues to be very, very weird.)





	All's Fair In Love And Scrums

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sissamarisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sissamarisa/gifts).



> Thank you very much for this excellent prompt! It was a lot of fun writing this from BGD's (weird, weird) point of view. I hope you enjoy.

It's the crack of dawn, and he's standing at the top of a waterfall, bent over, hands on his knees, catching his breath.

It's modest, as far as waterfalls go. Here the river that runs through the heart of the jungle is more of a stream, thigh high, clear to the bottom, and home to numerous curious finger-length silver fish. The water flows between muddy, mossy green banks and off a slate-grey cliff, falling fourty feet to the wide basin below. There's a rope ladder fastened to an old tree with a trunk so thick his arms don't even wrap a third of the way around it. This dangles down off the cliff, too, close enough to the falls that you can feel the spray of it while you're making your way up. It's a hell of a climb. 

It's a strange thing, feeling fatigued. 

His palms ache where the damp rope bit into his skin. His arms are sore, his lungs burning. The water swirling around his legs is cold, raising goosebumps all over him. The mud beneath his feet squishes between his toes, sending swirling brown eddies up into the current and off the cliff, and he simultaneously delights in and is disgusted by the texture and sensation of it. A cool breeze blows through the trees, following the path of the water, and it feels amazing against the sweat-damp back of his neck. He straightens up.

He's been real for awhile now, but he isn't sure he'll ever get used to the feeling. 

He spreads his fingers and stares at his hands, noting the angry red rope burns there. The calluses that have started forming on his fingertips thanks to months of jungle expeditions like this one, not to mention the hard labor in the scrapyard. Marks from scrapes and bruises the guy he's physically modeled after doesn't have, setting them apart. He could make them heal clean, of course -- hell, he could have flown up here instead of climbing the fucking ladder -- but the thing is, he likes them. They're living reminders of the way the world can reciprocate this brand new ability to leave a lasting mark. 

He stands there for a long time. Long enough that his feet start to go numb. Long enough that the bugs start coming out, tiny little gnats that buzz incessantly around his ears. Another new thing about fully realized existence: experiencing the linear passage of time. Being anchored by his fancy flesh body to one continuity, one timeline, one reality. He closes his eyes and thinks _sideways_ , and it's all still there, sprawling out from the single bright burning point that is him right _now._ Other times, other places, and a loose collection of hope-bound soul stuff blinking off and on in fitful bright spots winding off into quantum eternity.

When he opens his eyes, the sun is halfway up the sky, hauling itself dutifully up and over the jungle canopy. But that isn't what caught his attention. Even warmer than the sun is the presence approaching from behind, splashing through the shallow pools along the edges of the stream. There's a splash, a half-laughing, half-wailed curse, and another, deeper laugh that causes this pleasant fluttering sensation in his chest. He drags himself out of the stream and stands near where the rope ladder is tied off. He leans against the tree, arms crossed. 

Even disorganized disasters like Dirk and Jake can't escape the human need to establish routines, and they come here a lot about this time of day. Early, but not _too_ early. Jake doesn't even see him as he blows past, a blur of dark flesh and white teeth and electric green eyes. He's naked, of course. Jake English thinks it's absolutely the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard, wearing clothes to a swimming hole out here in the middle of the jungle where no one who hasn't seen it all before can see. He has roughly three seconds to appreciate Jake's bare ass, and then he's gone, leaping over the cliff. A long, exultant whooping sound accompanies him all the way down.

He shakes his head, grinning, but there's a bit of nervousness bouncing around in his guts, too. He expects Dirk to notice him, and to maybe to be a little annoyed at him crashing their morning ritual. He's never been explicitly invited, after all. He's already running through apologies and excuses in his head. He doesn't have any good ones. He just wanted to be nearby, to experience whatever they experience while they're here by the power of emotional osmosis. He's pretty sure he's his own person now, with his own independent thoughts and whims and desires, but _their_ moods haven't stopped affecting his. When they're happy, it's like his own weird hope fueled splinter-soul sits lighter in his chest, and when they're not ... 

Well. They usually are, these days. 

Dirk flies by so fast it kicks up a back draft behind him, rippling the water, rustling the leaves, and he doesn't notice him at all. He breathes a slightly guilty sigh of relief. Dirk blasts over the waterfall and hovers over the natural basin, and he takes a second to just _admire_ him, all pale-freckled skin over tight, wiry muscle, and it's funny that just looking at Dirk Strider can take his breath away, because physically, they are very nearly identical. Funny and strange, because it's not like he gets the vapors when he looks in a mirror. Well. Usually. 

"Hey!" Jake's voice, echoing up the basin, shouting and yet barely audible over the perpetual crash of the waterfall. "You can't bring flying to a footrace, Dirk! I'm telling you, that is downright lowbrow!" 

Dirk spreads his arms, incredulously. "You already _won._ " 

"Doesn't matter! You've got to finish honest!" 

"Too late now," Dirk says, crossing his arms. He doesn't have the same no clothes at the swimming hole policy that Jake does -- at least not at first -- and his shorts are, of course, creamsicle orange. Nothing if not predictable. He can't hear whatever response Jake makes to this, but he can see Dirk shake his head. Watch him shrug and run his fingers through his autumn-gold hair. Notice him faintly smirking as he takes a deep breath and then dives down in one fluid motion, out of sight.

He realizes he's been holding his breath, and takes a second to think about that. Interesting instinct. He doesn't really need to breathe. None of them do; they've just been doing it so long they don't think about it. Not so for him -- usually. He lets it all out in a breathy _whoosh_ and thinks, _I should really be going._ But his feet take him to the edge of the cliff, instead. He peeks over.

Dirk is in the water, now, floating near the middle of the pool, and Jake is perched up on a rock near the base of the waterfall, splashing water at him. Jake is absolutely doing that on purpose -- sitting on that rock and showing himself off, throwing Dirk off guard with the simple sight of him. He wonder if Dirk knows that. Probably. He's wise to a lot of Jake's little tricks, now. Dirk dives underwater to avoid the onslaught, and doesn't come back up. 

It's not that Dirk has figured out that they don't really need to breathe, anymore. They're gods, but they're still too freshly human to capitalize on that completely. Nah, this is just Dirk. He can stay under for a long, _long_ time. It's a skill that Jake has especially enjoyed, when ...

He shakes his head. 

"Dirk," Jake shouts, finally, sounding completely exasperated. He stands up and turns a slow circle on his rock, peering into the water. He's still wearing his glasses, which is hilarious, because again -- gods. He could adjust his natural eyesight in a second if he chose to do so, but it's kind of a relief that he doesn't, because it's hard to imagine him without them. " _Strider!_ Come on, now! Why don't you be a fucking sport about this and knock off the merman malarkey, it's -- _augh!_ " 

Dirk bobs out of the water behind him like a freckled cork and shoves him unceremoniously off the rock and into the pool. Jake's limbs all flail out as he goes, making garbled noises to the end, and when he surfaces his glasses are all askew and he's shaking a finger at Dirk and laughing all at the same time. He kicks off the rock and shoots forward at him, and Dirk's a good swimmer, sure, but Jake catches him and puts his hands on his shoulders and dunks him under easily -- and then makes a startled sound and goes under, himself. Presumably someone has his ankle, down there. 

They're fun to watch. He probably shouldn't be doing it. It's probably real fucking uncool of him, all things considered, to be sneaking around up here peeking in on their quality time together. But he's smiling, his heart feels light, and though part of him aches to join them down there, most of him is perfectly content to just soak in their happiness from afar. 

Jake comes bursting out of the water like a handsome, naked torpedo, shooting up half the height of the basin and hovering gloriously in the air, panting. Dirk surfaces a moment later, and even from this distance, his smug expression is obvious. "Oh, I see how it is," he says. "Who's the cheater now, English? Flying is only off limits until you want to do it, is that how this works?" 

"All right, wise guy," Jake says, hands on his hips. "I give you _permission._ " 

"Nah," Dirk retorts, immediately. "I'm good down here, bro. Enjoying the view." 

"I'll just bet you are," Jake laughs. He sounds so very cavalier, but his shoulders flush with pretty pink undertones. 

A part of him wants Jake to float a little higher, look over and notice him. As he's thinking this, Jake floats closer, nearer to the waterfall and essentially just below him along the sheer drop of the cliff face. The rope ladder creaks as Jake settles his weight on it. He's climbing the damn thing to show off to Dirk, and now it's time to make a decision: get lost, or get caught. 

He really doesn't want to leave. 

He backs up as the taut rope vibrates with the motions of its handler, and takes a deep breath as Jake's grinning countenance pops up over the cliff edge and spots him basically instantly. He startles, eyes going wide, stopped there on the last rungs of the ladder. 

"Brain Ghost Dirk!" he gasps, and he doesn't sound upset or anything. In fact, he sounds pretty fucking delighted. "What the blue fucking blazes are you doing all the way out here?" He lifts himself the rest of the way up, and he -- Brain Ghost Dirk -- has enough of the original Dirk in him to be compelled to appreciate the sight. Jake notices this, of course, and puffs up, his toothy grin going somehow even wider. 

"Uh," he begins. "Well..." 

"Did you follow us? Shit, I didn't even hear you. You might be better at stalking around than even that old brobot was, if that's the case, but -- wait!" Jake tilts his head at him, brows furrowing. "How the hell long have you been up here, you sly dog?" 

"Awhile," he admits, and he has the grace at least to sound a little sheepish. "I mean, I didn't think you'd want me barging in, so, uh. I was just going, actually." Not totally a lie. He'd been considering it. The more he thinks about this, the more he's sure Dirk is going to be annoyed with him, even if Jake isn't, and he generally likes to try staying on both their good sides. 

"What? No! You can't friggin' go now, are you joking? I only just found you!" 

"Jake?" Dirk's voice -- the real Dirk -- echoing from below. He doesn't sound worried. More... wary. Expecting another ambush, probably. 

Jake casts a glance over his shoulder, and then turns back and grins in this absolutely devilish way. It's ridiculously compelling. He's a handsome guy, and he damn well knows it. 

"I can see you planning something," he says. Jake just nods. 

"He doesn't know you're here," Jake says, lowering his voice to a hoarse, conspiratorial whisper. "We could really get him _good._ Here. I'll call him up, and you distract him. He'll be so goddamn gobsmacked to see _you_ here, I'll get the drop on him for sure." He punctuates this statement with a wink. 

And, well. No one built around a sliver of Dirk Strider is ever going to have the willpower to resist _that._ He sighs. Dirk is going to be so goddamn annoyed with him. 

"Let's do it," he says, and the way Jake's face lights up makes his heart flip. 

Jake struts to the edge of the cliff, leans out, and hollers. "Well, what the blue frigging bejesus do you think you're waiting for, Strider? Afraid of the sound thrashing you know I'll levy on you if you were to follow me up? Mercilessly, might I add!" He drops his voice to a whisper, again, and looks over at him. "God, look at him. Isn't he a sight? No -- stay there, don't actually look, you'll blow your cover!" He waves frantically. 

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Dirk's voice, echoing up through the basin. "I thought you were going to jump!" 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?! Well, no sir, you're going to have to work for your peep show today, mister!" Jake backs away from the edge, snickering. 

"Nice," he says. 

"I'm going to hide. Hold him off for me, will you?" 

"Uh, sure." 

Jake winks again, and then shoots off into the canopy flanking the stream bed. 

And then he's alone, again. He creeps cautiously up near the cliff, but doesn't dare to peek out over it. Shrugging, he slips behind the rope-ladder tree again, and crosses his arms, biding his time. Dirk calls out a few more times from below, sounding increasingly irritated each time. Then he goes quiet. 

It doesn't take long after that. 

"I swear to fuck," Dirk grouses, floating into view over the cliff side. "Are you seriously up here somewhere, hiding naked in the jungle." He doesn't phrase this like a question, just a deadpan sort of statement of fact. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "Fine. I get your game, bro, but you should know by now, you can't catch me off guard." He touches down as he says this, and he's close enough now that his narrowed eyes are visible, along with the spatter of freckles over his cheeks and nose. 

It's tempting to try this the way Jake would do it. To take a deep breath and shoot out from his cover, hoping to tackle Dirk to the ground before he can brace himself for the impact -- if only because it would result in grappling with Dirk in the dirt, a situation neither he nor Jake has ever even once found objectionable. He shakes his head. He's running distraction. Gotta let Jake to the tackling. 

He clears his throat, gently. Dirk whirls around and flies at him, leaping on instinct, and nearly tackles _him_ before he realizes he's not the right guy, after all. It's almost comical, the way his face contorts with confusion. Just in time, Dirk drops to the ground and digs his heels in the mud, halting his trajectory. 

And then they're just staring at each other. Dirk folds his arms, so he mirrors the gesture, raising an eyebrow. 

"Where's Jake," Dirk demands. 

"Damn. Nice to see you too, man." 

Dirk shakes his head. "Let me guess. You're working together. You're gonna _distract_ me, and he's going to come flying out of --" 

Before he can even finish the words, there's a mighty holler from above, and a brown human-shaped missile comes streaking down from the treetops. Dirk throws himself to one side with a little grunt of effort, and Jake sweeps through the air precisely where he'd been standing a moment prior. Dirk rolls in the mud, springing back onto his feet before Jake can reverse his trajectory, and he can't help it; he laughs. The look on Jake's face is just so -- and Dirk, fists up, knees bent, ready for a real fuckin' throw down, and god help him, it's fucking hilarious. 

His laughter totally breaks the mood. Jake lands lightly, fixing him with wide eyes, and Dirk's eyebrows squish together, the very picture of self-conscious irritation. 

"What the fuck is so funny?" Dirk demands. A blush is creeping up his face. He always gets blushy when he has to watch his own face express emotion. 

"I would have got him!" Jake says, almost simultaneously. "Laugh it up, Brain Ghost Dirk, go ahead, but I would have been just fine!" 

"It's not that," he says, leaning heavily against the tree to steady himself. Another laugh bubbles up. He swallows it, barely. "It's just, you're fucking ridiculous. Both of you. No, no, please, by all means, take this idyllic morning swimhole adventure and turn it into a go here in the fucking mud, that'll be a real treat for me. I --" 

And Jake tackles him, instead. 

It takes him _completely_ by surprise, and he goes down hard, splashing into the muddy water. It's just deep enough that he goes under, and for just a second he actually forgets that real or no, he doesn't have to breathe. And as it turns out, breathing in water is super fucking unpleasant. He flails his limbs, coughs bubbles under water, kicks his legs out and sweeps Jake's legs out from under him. They roll in the current. He gets his hands on Jake's shoulders, but before he can capitalize on the situation, Jake knees him in the stomach. It hurts, because of course it does, but even that is still novel -- and, _fuck_ , this is so -- 

He tackles Jake, driving his shoulder into his chest, running them both up onto the muddy bank. Jake makes a surprised _oof_ sound and lands flat on his back, arms out, glasses askew. Panting hard, he pulls himself up over him and sits on his chest, pinning his arms with his knees. He presses his forearm against Jake's neck, just hard enough to mean business. Jake wheezes up at him, blinking and kicking his legs, uselessly. "God damn it," he croaks. "How the devil are you so fucking _fast!_ " 

Instead of answering, he leans over Jake and plants a wet, loud kiss right on his lips. Jake makes a surprised sound, but his legs stop kicking, and when he pulls back up Jake's frustrated expression is smoothed right back over, and his eyes are sparkling with mirth. 

"Just can't help yourself, can you?" he says. 

"In some ways, English, it's a god damn given that you'll always win." 

"I'll take it," he says, and then Dirk -- the real Dirk -- clears his throat behind them. The moment shatters. He jumps off Jake like he's been caught doing something he shouldn't, and from the look on Dirk's face, maybe he has. 

"Sorry," he says without thinking, suddenly nervous. His position in this weird, weird three way thing they have going on isn't exactly in doubt, not at this point, but this _was_ supposed to be their morning, their moment, _their_ thing, not his. He's suddenly embarrassed, fidgeting in place. He knows Dirk is feeling jealous, because part of him _is_ Dirk, and he isn't sure how to proceed without making it worse. "Sorry," he says again, stepping back. 

"For what?" Dirk says, cool as anything. 

"Yeah," Jake agrees, oblivious to the tension. "Don't be sorry. One of these days I'll get _one_ of you, cross my friggin heart, just wait. Next time!" Dirk holds out a hand, and Jake takes it, hauling himself up with a groan. "I guess that's that, then? Back to the pool? Let's get this mud off us before Dirk throws a fit about it, eh?" 

"You go ahead," Dirk says, wiping his hands on his shorts, leaving muddy tracks on them. "I think I'm just gonna head back. Get me a real shower, instead."

Jake's brows furrow. He puts his hands on his hips. "Now wait just a minute," he says. 

And he kind of feels awful. He really needs to learn not to give into these impulses, this need to just be _near_ them, not without their knowledge and most definitely not without their explicit consent. He knows that. Dirk's mood and Jake's dawning understanding of it are bleeding into him, and the only thing worse than their negative emotions is the knowledge that _he_ caused it. He coughs. Averts his eyes. "Hey. Don't. It's cool, man. I'm gonna take off for awhile," he says.

"Don't you move a muscle!" Jake demands, and then he turns on Dirk. "Are you jealous? Really? Of one little peck on the lips? _Dirk._ " 

"I'm not _jealous,_ " Dirk snaps, but the way his cheeks flood splotchy crimson betrays the lie. Jake might not have a sullen splinter of him buried at the core of his psyche to consult, but he doesn't exactly need one to solve this mystery. 

" _Strider,_ " Jake says, his voice taking on a warning tinge, and somewhere in the swirl of bad feelings a little bit of pride pokes through. Not so long ago, Jake would have just let them both storm off. Would have convinced himself that Dirk really did just want a shower and that he just really did need a break, and everything was just hunky dory in jungle land. Not so, now. "Come on, now. If it's not the kiss, I can only conclude you're upset that _you_ weren't the one to pin my hiney to the dirt, and -- well, come on, then! Now's your chance. Put 'em up, mister!" Jake takes a swing at him. Dirk dances back, easily. 

" _Jake,_ " he says again, sounding absolutely pained. "Will you knock it off, I --" 

Jake swings at him again, and Dirk grunts, catching his fist and flipping him around in a motion so fast it's hard to follow. With Jake's back against him, now, he pins Jake's arm to his chest and hooks his arm around Jake's other elbow, pulling that back, too. Jake laughs, and before Dirk can get in another word, he slams the back of his head directly into Dirk's face. Dirk yelps in mixed pain and surprise, and his moment of shock is enough that Jake can shake out of his grip and turn himself around. 

"Oldest trick in the friggin _book_ , Strider," Jake declares, and then he tackles him. It's how he operates. He claims to be a fan of fisticuffs, but the truth is, he mostly just likes to _wrestle._ They go down in a flailing tangle of limbs, and by the time they hit the bank Dirk has recovered himself enough to rebuff Jake's attempts to get him in a lock. 

He vaguely feels like he shouldn't be watching. Neither one is paying any attention to him, now. He could probably just fly off, stay out of their hair for awhile. 

But Jake would be upset at him if he did. 

But Dirk will be upset at him if he stays. 

He starts fidgeting, again, caught between them. What to do? He kicks up into the air. Neither notices him. Too busy rolling around in the mud. And he takes a second to appreciate that, because, fuck, he'd be an idiot if he didn't. He feels guilty for this immediately, because that's how Dirk reacts to basically every desire he ever has, and that's how Jake reacts when other people are upset with him. Double whammy. Ouch. 

Dirk flips them over and gets his arms hooked around Jake's elbows, pressing his knee into the center of his back. Jake laughs, helplessly, and... 

They'll be fine. He turns to go, before he can lose his nerve. 

"Wait," Dirk says, and it takes a long second before he realizes he's talking to him, and not Jake. He stops. Glances back.

"Yeah?" 

"You said you wanted a show, right?" 

"What?" 

"Watch this." 

Dirk lets go of one of Jake's arms, grabs a fistful of his hair, wrenches his head back and kisses him, long and hard. Jake makes a muffled, eager groaning sound, tilting his chin up into it. Dirk leans closer, deepening it, and in doing so he lets up on the pressure of his knee against Jake's back for just a second. And a second is all it takes. Jake makes a victorious sound into Dirk's mouth and flips them over. He hooks his leg around Dirk's as he moves them, and Dirk is just barely too slow to avoid being locked in Jake's grip. Dirk clutches at the arm now fastened around his neck, and there's a few seconds of pointless struggle before he slaps Jake's leg and concedes the point. 

Jake lets him go, and Dirk sits up, breathing hard. 

"Weak," he says. 

"All's fair in love and scrums," Jake replies, laughing. He collapses back into the dirt. "Christ, look at us. We're disgusting." 

And they are. Sweaty and streaked with mud and clumps of river grass, hair sticking out in every direction.

"Yeah," Dirk says, scratching the back of his neck. They meet eyes, just for a second, and then Dirk drops his gaze back down into the dirt. "We should, like. Rinse off, maybe." 

"I can just go," he blurts out, because he understands what they're doing, but if they aren't absolutely sure -- 

"God damn it," Dirk snaps. He stands up and strides toward him, face thunderous. " _I'm_ sorry, okay? I flipped my lid, there, it was totally uncool, you didn't deserve it. Okay?" 

"Okay," he says, simply. Dirk blinks. He expected him to argue. It's what he would have done. But he's Brain Ghost Dirk, not Dirk Strider, and his lopsided little smile is far more rooted in the parts of him that come from Jake as he extends out his hand in cautious accord. Dirk scoffs, but he takes it. 

He tightens his hand around Dirk's and yanks him close. "Thanks," he says, and then he kisses him, because he's proud of him, too. Dirk goes stiff in his arms, but only for a second. Then he leans into him and kisses back, and it's fucking god damn perfect. 

The thing is. He's existed in an unimaginable number of timelines, all spread parallel to each other across paradox space, but he's only really _lived_ in this one. It's one of many things that make this timeline unique, and every moment in it precious to him. Even so, not all moments are created equal, and the ones he spends kissing Dirk and Jake are among the best.

They break apart. Dirk takes a step back and coughs into one hand, his gorgeous orange eyes slipping off to stare at a fixed point to the side. "Sure thing," he mutters, voice even. 

"Now that that's settled," Jake declares, a suspicious mirthful lilt to his words, "Last one down is a rotten egg!" 

The last of the tension breaks in a flurry of movement. Jake is already gone in one great half-flying leap over the waterfall. Dirk shoots off after him, but not before shouting something about stank ass cheaters. They disappear below.

He could float on after them, but the sensation of solid weight on corporeal legs is still novel enough that he doesn't want to. Instead he dashes along the stream bank, focusing on the sensation of mud and grass underfoot and the wind in his hair. He hits the cliff edge and leaps off a rocky outcropping, following Jake's general trajectory, and plummets down with the waterfall at his back. His stomach drops and he thinks he lets out a euphoric shout just before he hits the water feet-first, arms clasped tight over his chest. 

The pool is colder than the stream, shocking his system as he sinks deep, tiny bubbles floating up all around him. It feels good. It feels _real_. He kicks for the surface and emerges, breathless and laughing. Dirk and Jake are already down here, looking at him. He slicks his hair back. 

"Come here," Jake commands him, and so he swims obediently over, because why not? He wants to be near them anyway. "Hold still." Jake plucks a tangle of river reeds out of hair and flicks it away. He leans into the touch, treading water. "Hold your horses, there," Jake laughs at him, pulling away and swimming off on his back, toward the waterfall. "I said I was going to rinse off, and I meant it!" 

He hears Dirk splashing up behind him, but he doesn't expect him to put his hands on his shoulders and dunk him casually underwater as he passes by. He surfaces, sputtering. Jake is laughing at him as he disappears behind the waterfall. He follows after them, ducking beneath the pounding spray of it just in time to catch another generous glimpse of Jake's perfect round ass as he hauls himself up onto a rocky ledge. There's... not a cave, here, exactly. More just a scoop carved out of the rock, but it has plenty of space for the three of them to occupy together. There are scorch marks near one side, like they've had campfires going here before. An open box near the back that he can't quite see inside of. A bundle of scraggly blankets, bunched up beside it. 

Jake holds a hand down to help Dirk climb up after him. Dirk takes it, and then immediately yanks Jake back into the water, instead. Before Jake can recover, Dirk scrambles up and into the rock hollow, laughing. God, it's so nice to hear him laugh. He doesn't do it nearly often enough. Jake surfaces and spits a jet of water up at Dirk, who dodges it easily. "Nice one, English," Dirk says, mocking. This close to the base of the waterfall, he has to shout to be heard over the roaring sound of it. Jake just sticks his tongue out at him, and swims up to climb the ledge again.

Truthfully, he's more than content to just watch them. He's spent so much of his long, weird existence occupying untraversable space between them, his mind and his soul aching at his inability to help them cross it. Seeing them here, now, happy and _together_ is all he needs to be satisfied. 

But somehow, for some wild reason, they've given him so much more. "You coming up?" Jake asks him, shouting over the noise. He has one brow quirked in bemused inquiry. His hair is plastered crooked to his forehead, and wet rivulets are running from it down the side of his face. He's so fucking handsome. They both are. Dirk holds out a hand. 

Well, fuck. Why not? 

Dirk hauls him up one-handed, and Jake wastes absolutely zero time making his intentions crystal clear. Arms wrap around him from behind. "Haven't you ever heard of swim clothes?" Jake snickers into his ear, sliding his hands under his wet, clinging shirt. He shrugs. "Come on, now. Let's get all this nonsense off." 

"All of it?" he says, half teasing, but half dead serious, too. Jake's only response is to drag his cold, damp fingers further up over his stomach, but across from him, Dirk nods. Being touched is still an absurdly distracting experience, especially like this. Jake used to fantasize about this -- about Dirk, the _real_ Dirk -- and he still has all those thoughts and images and feelings contained in his own recollection to reference, but actually experiencing it firsthand is... something else entirely. He'll never get used to how good it feels. 

He peels off the shirt. Jake kisses his shoulder. Dirk stands awkwardly closer the back of the cave, watching them with wide, unreadable eyes. He drops the sopping wet shirt and holds his arms half up, inviting, and a whole three act play of emotions marches across Dirk's face in a blink. Then his features smooth out and he steps in close enough to grab, after all. His skin is even colder than Jake's, but it's so fucking god damn nice pressed all up against him. He slides his arms around Dirk's waist, splays his palms flat on his back, and sighs with soul-deep satisfaction. 

Jake moves one hand back down, sliding between him and Dirk, and rests it lightly over his crotch. The warmth of it seeps into him, and he wiggles his hips up against the pressure of Jake's palm. He tightens his arms around Dirk. Behind him, he can feel Jake's body slowly responding to the evolving situation. 

"Well, how about it?" Jake says, and he knows that he's addressing them both. He holds his breath. Dirk pulls back, lifts his chin, darts his eyes between the two of them, and nods. 

Excitement and relief bloom together in his belly, warm and liquid. Fuck yes. "Yeah," he gasps out, because Jake can't see his face. "Please," he adds, and he's rewarded with a low chuckle in his ear. They move together further into the hollow, and he can feel his heart beating in fast rhythm -- another thing that's still new to him, along with this shortness of breath, this warm anticipation. 

There's an infinite number of timelines out there where he never experiences this. Never feels this way. Certainly never feels the warm press of Jake at his back and Dirk wrapped tight against his chest simultaneously. An endless march of realities that thread off into oblivion without ever sparing him the courtesy of feeling Jake tug insistently at his shorts, sliding them down off his bony hips, universes that abruptly hit their messy ends without him ever hearing Dirk grind out heartfelt curses while he and Jake work him over together, fingers sliding over damp skin rough with goosebumps. 

It's terrifying how much this one reality means to him. One fragile thread winding in a tapestry of billions upon billions -- but how could he ever go back? 

He closes his eyes and lets the current of sensation carry him away. He thinks he hears Jake laugh, but it's hard to tell over the sound of the waterfall. The musty pile of blankets takes the edge off the bite of the rocks beneath them, and once Dirk has finally kicked his own shorts the rest of the way off, they sink down together in a mostly mutual motion, together. Jake rocks against him from behind, and for his own part, he moves with that and simultaneously leans in and kisses his way down Dirk's neck, over his shoulder, reaching around him to squeeze his ass and pull him in closer. 

Jake is always the more demanding one, rough and loud and insistent, pulling and pushing and directing them however he likes. Dirk is more hesitant, but just as eager, and whenever they can get him to vocalize his pleasure it's like being hit with a bolt of triumphant euphoria that goes straight to his dick. Another thing he can only really experience here. 

He isn't sure what sort of lover he is, exactly, but he knows all of Jake's fantasies, and he thinks he understands what Dirk needs better than Dirk sometimes does, himself. Maybe that's egotistical of him, but hey. When he opens his eyes, he's technically looking at his own face, tipped back and lips parted, and the way his body responds to that is loud and clear.

He can accept being in love with himself, because _himself_ is really just the two of them and a whole lot of hope dust, tied into an impossible knot and made real. 

Afterward, they're laying together in a loose pile of flesh and blankets, and somehow Jake has squirmed his way between him and Dirk, because of course he has. Dirk has one arm behind his head and the other snaked behind Jake's neck. And he's got his own face pillowed up against Jake's shoulder, fingers tracing aimless patterns over his broad, muscled belly. Jake heaves a heavy, contented sigh, and he can feel Jake's fingers moving back and forth in his hair, gentle and soothing. God, but this comforting lethargy feels almost as good as the rest of it. His eyelids are drooping, his breaths are coming in slow and deep. The sound of the waterfall is loud, but somehow soothing. 

Sleep is another thing none of them technically need, anymore. But he curls up tighter over Jake, throws his arm over his chest, and decides to indulge in it anyway. He feels Jake's arm tighten around him, and just as he starts to drift, he feels Dirk's long fingers tangle with his.

That he exists at all is a wonder, but this place? This tiny, precious sliver of existence where he can breathe and sleep and touch and _feel_ is the real miracle, and he can never, ever, ever go back.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr at [@landofsomethingsomething!](http://landofsomethingsomething.tumblr.com)


End file.
